


“It’s fine. You won’t hurt us.”

by SuhailaUniverse



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: 2x06, Best Laid Schemes, Extended Scene, F/M, Show!Verse, missing moment, prompt ficlet, seksi times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 07:18:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8480608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuhailaUniverse/pseuds/SuhailaUniverse
Summary: When Claire and Jamie feel their baby move, their tender moment shared turns into something little more.





	

_“It’s fine. You won’t hurt us.”_

She said as she decidedly moved on top of him. She tugged at her shift, making way as she slid home, a breathless _‘Ah’_ escaping them both. She leaned down and kissed him long and deep, tongues slowly jousting, teeth lightly nipping each other’s lips.

His hips rose, seeking the friction he so desperately needed. “Not yet, love,” she whispered against his mouth, pressing her hips down – stilling him - making him groan, but relax nonetheless. She braced her hands on either side of him and arched her neck, inviting. He took her meaning and languidly ran his lips over the soft skin at the base of her throat, his warm breath making her shiver. He made his way up to just behind her ear, kissing lightly, then – smiling to himself - took her earlobe between his teeth. She moaned and rolled her hips once in answer. She felt the muscles in his thighs tighten with the effort not to move. She pulled back slightly, taking his chin between her fingers, tilted his head to the side and thoroughly returned the favor.

It was blissful torture.

She sat up and he tried to follow, but she gently pushed him back down. He watched her through hooded eyelids, his hands running up the length of her thighs, thumbs massaging the softness of her inner thighs. She was heavier now, but the weight was an incredibly astonishing comfort.

“I need ye, _no nighean donn_ ,” he pleaded quietly.

“No,” she replied, teasing. “I want to watch you first.”

She ran her fingertips, light as butterfly wings, over his collar bones, down to the hollow of his chest – the tickling chest hairs standing on end as his skin burst with gooseflesh in the wake of her touch. His breathing became ragged, his body twitching like a stretched rubber band in an effort not to lose himself as her fingernails drew circles around his already stiff nipples. His hands moved as if of their own accord, and like a cloud her shift wafted over her head, the heady scent of her skin filling his senses.

His fingers began to explore her naked body in earnest, working their way over the beautiful curves the bairn had made of her belly, his thumbs caressing the exquisitely sensitive peaks of her breasts. She reared, rising ever so slightly, but the movement was as intense as it was delicate. He grasped her hips and rose to meet her lips.

They began to rock, their bodies meeting in a rhythm that was both familiar and viscerally exciting. She wrapped her arms around his neck holding him to her chest, digging her nails into the nape of his neck. He could hear her heart thundering under his ear, echoing that of his own. A fine film of sweat engulfed them both as their pace quickened, their cries breaking the night’s silence. She felt the beginnings of his release and felt her own build uncontrollably. She stilled him once more, pulling back; she cupped his face, stroking his damp auburn curls back from his forehead, to see a look of unutterable tenderness reflected in his eyes and knew it matched her own. She kissed him lightly and rolled her hips, bringing him deeper, this time shattering them both completely.

Later, as they lay in each other’s arms, his head resting in the curve of her shoulder and her fingernails running the length of his back, the other wrapped around his forearm that lay just across her hips; their breathing finally deep and steady once more. She thought him asleep when his voice suddenly drifted up towards her as if through a fog.

“Does it ever stop, Claire?” he asked; a slight catch in his voice. “The wanting you?” he eased his hand between her legs.

“God,” she replied, shifting her leg to accommodate his questing fingers. “I hope not.”


End file.
